


Some Like It Hot

by starsandgutters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Silliness galore, Team Free Will, bunker!fic, do not be fooled this is only rated T for a tad of foul language, human!Cas, in which Cas is me and I am Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandgutters/pseuds/starsandgutters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean got into the habit of making bets on how long it will take before the next time; Dean’s on a winning streak but Sam is sure he’s got the pattern down now, and he subtly elbows Dean to get his attention. Dean looks up and they both stare across the table in the bunker’s war room, pretending to be engrossed in research.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Like It Hot

**Author's Note:**

> Based on too, _too_ many occurrences of this in my everyday life.
> 
> No, seriously, it's the actual **worst**.

For Sam and Dean, it is almost second nature. It doesn’t necessarily have to do with the fact that they’ve been human longer, but rather with the  _way_  they’ve spent their human years: always on the run, drifting from one dingy motel room to another, living for the most part in a car, never knowing just  _when_  their next meal could be. Thanks to John Winchester’s particular brand of parenting, the boys have learned that when you have material comforts in your reach, you take them, and you take them  _fast,_ whether that means enjoying a hot shower or destroying a cheeseburger in two minutes flat. It only makes sense that the same would apply to coffee.

Castiel, however, has not been human long enough to get used to all the little idiosyncrasies, and certainly, if there’s one thing he’d never lacked as an angel, it was time.

That’s probably why this keeps happening, really. Sam and Dean got into the habit of making bets on how long it will take before the next time; Dean’s on a winning streak but Sam is sure he’s got the pattern down now, and he subtly elbows Dean to get his attention. Dean looks up and they both stare across the table in the bunker’s war room, pretending to be engrossed in research.

Castiel reaches for the mug and— 3, 2, 1…

“ _Shit._  Shit. How is this  _cold_  again? I only just  _made_  it!” The indignation in Castiel’s voice would not be out of place if he’d just discovered the coffee had been cheating on him with a string of debauched lovers.

Sam clears his throat to try and avoid laughing. “Um, it’s actually been sitting there for about 20 minutes, Cas.”

Castiel curses loudly in Enochian, something that the boys think has to do with radishes, goats, and somebody’s great-aunt.

“Seriously, man, this is getting ridiculous. This is, what, the  _third_  time you’ve reheated it in the past two hours? Just drink the damn thing,” Dean laughs.

Castiel’s response is muttered too low and venomous to be understood, but Dean thinks it amounts to  _just shut your damn mouth_ ; he can deduce this mostly based on Castiel’s raised middle finger as he heads for the microwave yet  _again._

“Pay up.” Sam extends a hand smugly, and Dean reluctantly shoves a crumpled fiver into his palm.

“Drop the cute look, Sammy.”

“You’re just mad because you’re losing your touch.”

“Oh, come  _on_ , how was I supposed to predict he’d forget to drink it  _again_?”

“Uh, maybe because he’s been doing that since—”

An elbow in the ribs promptly shuts Sam up as Dean nods in the direction of the kitchen, from which Castiel emerges holding a steaming mug and looking like murder.

Sam takes the hint and buries his nose in the book again, even though a smirk keeps tugging at his lips. Dean, who doesn’t know what’s good for him and never will, grins brightly across the table, where Castiel has just violently plunked down the nuked cup of joe.

“Nothing like the smell of fresh coffee, huh, Cas?”

“Kindly go fuck yourself,” Castiels enunciates with a thunderous glare, and Dean can’t help but laugh.


End file.
